Friends Left In The Dark
by Lady Urquentha
Summary: What happens if your mother is the President of the United States, and you have friends coming over for dinner. And you haven't told them who your mother is? The rating is for the first couple of paragraphs, just to be safe.


**Friends Left In the Dark**

**By Lady Urquentha**

**Disclaimer:** I own none of this, except the plot-line. All places, characters, even the general basis, belong to ABC and the producers. Unless you don't recognize them, then they're mine. In this story that's only Isabella and Britney.

**A/N:** This is my first CIC fic, and my first foray outside the world of Harry Potter. It's un-betaed, because my usual beta doesn't watch CIC and I don't know anyone who both watches CIC and reads/writes fan fiction. It's a one-shot, and will stay that way unless someone wants more. I apologize in advance for the poor quality of this fic.

"Rebecca's friends are coming to dinner today," Rod's voice broke the silence of the bedroom early one morning.

"Mmm," Mackenzie burrowed further into her pillow, clearly not paying much attention. Rod sighed, she had never been a morning person, and hadn't been looking forward to this visit either. It had been planned for weeks, but she really didn't want to have to face her daughter's friends over dinner. Rebecca had told them only last night that she still hadn't told her friends exactly who her parents were. Even her friends' parents didn't know where they were going, just that they were going to Becca's house.

Rod sat up in the bed, pulling the covers down to reveal his wife's face,

"Come on, Mac," he coaxed her, "don't you want to be awake and ready to go to work by the time the kids go to school?" Mac opened her eyes with a groan,

"It doesn't take that long to walk across the White House," she grumbled, but obediently sat up.

"No, but your morning bath does," he teased her. She gave him a burning side-long glance,

"Only when you join me," she fairly purred. She swung her legs out of bed and stood up, stretching her arms above her head. There was movement behind her and then a pair of arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her backwards. She landed with a thump on the bed, and her husband pushed her down onto her back as he kissed her lips warmly. She wrapped her arms around his neck as she parted her lips to deepen the kiss.

When they parted for air, Rod sat back on his heels, still trapping the President's legs under him. Mac looked up at him, quirking a smile,

"Much as I would like to stay here, I do need to get in the shower and then to work," she reminded him. Rod leaned down again, bracing himself on either side of her as he began to kiss and lick her neck. Mac let out a soft moan as her husband teased her,

"Rod," she gasped, "stop." Rod ignored the request, simply doubling his efforts. Her eyes flickered shut and she arched into the caresses. She slipped her arms around his neck, pulling his head closer to her. Pleasure darted through her, driving her arousal up. Just as she decided that a shower and work could wait, Rod pulled back with a mischievous grin. Her eyes snapped open, and stared up at him in confusion.

"Come on, love, out of bed," Rod moved off her, "go get in the shower, I'll check on the kids." She stared at him in amazement.

"It's not like you've never done the same to me," Rod reminded her, sliding out of the bed. Mac watched as he left the bedroom, and then rolled off the bed with a groan. Shaking her head, she headed off to have a cold shower.

"Mommy!" Mac heard the cry and turned around to catch her youngest daughter as she came running.

"Morning, baby," she hugged Amy tightly, "how did you sleep?"

"Fine," Amy took her hand and they walked to the dining room.

"Good morning, Becca," Mac touched her oldest daughter on the shoulder as she stepped around the table. Becca nods but says nothing.

"Are you looking forward to school today?" Mac asked the younger of the two girls as she sat down opposite her husband, giving him a quick smile.

"Yup, we're continuing our study on plants," she grinned and began eating.

"Morning, Mom, Dad," Horace greeted her as he stepped into the room.

"Morning, baby," Mac replied, glancing up with a quick smile.

"So, Becca, your friends are coming over tonight," Horace teased her, "are you planning to tell them who mom is before or after they faint?" Becca shot him a dirty look,

"Stop it!" she snapped, "and Horace, tonight, could you please try to be even a little bit polite?"

"We all will be," Rod said firmly, "and Horace, no more teasing Becca." Horace subsided, but not before sending his twin a smirk.

A few minutes later, Katie walked in and Mac looked up,

"Good morning, Mom," she smiled. Her mother smiled and sat down at the table,

"Good Morning, Mac," she nodded, "Rod, Horace, Becca, Amy." They ate in silence for a few minutes, before a Secret Service agent stepped around the corner,

"Madame President, First Gentleman," the agent turned to the three children, "are you ready? School starts in half an hour." Horace nodded, standing up,

"I'll be there in a couple of minutes," he kissed his mother, "bye, mom." Becca glanced at her parents,

"Bye," and then left the room quickly. Amy got off her seat and came over to her mother. Mac hugged her tightly, kissing her hair,

"I'll see you tonight, baby," she promised, not speaking the next part of the sentence, _unless there's another emergency_. Emergencies had been pretty much constant since she became President; they were almost the norm by now.

Sighing, Mac rose,

"I'd better go too," she said regretfully, "I'll be back for dinner tonight."

"Do try to come back early," Katie commented, "Becca probably wouldn't appreciate you having dinner in a suit tonight." Mac sighed as she walked around the table,

"I'll try." Rod stood up,

"I'll see you later, Katie," he called over his shoulder as he followed his wife out the door.

"President Allen?" Mac looked up to find Jim and Kelly standing in the doorway.

"Yes, Jim?"

"We have a problem, ma'am" he began. Mac closed her eyes,

"Do we ever not have one? Don't answer that, it was rhetorical," she sighed, "go on."

"The state dinner next week, with England, ma'am? Templeton was supposed to come, but he's canceled," Jim explained. Mac was still for a moment,

"It's meant to show me up, isn't it?" she looked out the window, her mind whirling, "to show that the President can't even command the presence of the Speaker."

"It looks that way ma'am," Jim agreed.

"It doesn't look very good if the Speaker cancels on a formal dinner with a visiting nation," Kelly added, "especially when the English are actually coming to see how much control you actually have over America, regardless of what they say." Mac nodded and sighed,

"Has he said why?"

"He says his wife is ill, ma'am," Jim answered.

"Is it true?" Mac inquired.

"We don't know," Kelly shrugged, "we just got the news about five minutes ago."

"A quick check though, doesn't show that she is. She hasn't been to her normal doctor recently," Jim adds. Mac nodded slowly, and then made her decision.

"Find out if she is," Mac decided, "if so, I'll call her to see how she's doing, if not, we'll call Templeton in here." Either way, she was unhappy he'd canceled, but if his wife was seriously ill, then she could almost forgive him. Jim nodded,

"Yes, ma'am."

"Is there anything else? I really have to get back to all this," she gestured to the paperwork spread out on the desk. Jim shook his head,

"No ma'am, thank you ma'am." He turned and left the room. Kelly lingered,

"Are you okay, Mac?" she asked. Mac smiled up at her tiredly,

"Just tired and not really looking forward to dinner tonight," she replied, "I'll be fine." She turned back to the paper work with a sigh as her Press Secretary took her leave.

"Becca," Isabella said slowly, "where are we going?"

"Back to my house," Becca replied, knowing where this was leaving.

"You live near the White House?" Britney asked in surprise.

"Not exactly, _near_ the White House," Becca hedged. She'd met them on a school trip, and hadn't exactly advertised who she was. Both were from England, and when they'd emailed her to say they were coming through Washington, she'd invited them to dinner with her family. She hadn't thought about the fact they didn't know who she was, until _after_ they'd agreed to come. She still hadn't told them who she was, and was desperately hoping they wouldn't take it too badly. She'd asked to be taken in a normal car, not a limo, and her mother had stepped in to ensure it was possible.

"But you have to pass the White House a lot?" Isabella asked, "you picked us up from your school, so I'm assuming you have to." Becca gulped and sincerely wished she'd said something earlier,

"Okay, I'm going to tell you something…" she began, but was interrupted as her cell phone went off. She flipped it open, and frowned, it was her mother's work number.

"Yes?" she answered.

"Hey, baby," her mother's voice came over the phone, "I'm going to be late tonight. I've been caught up with work, and I won't be able to get off till about six, okay?"

"But, mom…" Becca stopped, "…it's okay."

"Thanks, Becca. I know I said I'd be back early, but then a problem's come up and I need to deal with it as soon as possible. Your father will be there to greet you guys though," her mother sounded distracted, "…yes, thank you Jim. I've got to go, baby, I'll see you tonight. Bye."

"Bye, mom," Becca hung up and stared down at her phone for a moment.

"What did your mother want?" Britney asked. Becca pocketed her phone,

"Just calling to say she'd be late. Dad will be there though." She looked up at her friends,

"Okay, I don't really know how to say this. I should have told you ages ago, but I wasn't exactly advertising who I was, and then I forgot I didn't tell you, and I was only reminded a couple of days ago." She took a deep breath, and stared across at her friends puzzled faces,

"My mom is actually kind of famous," she said slowly, "you'll probably recognize her and maybe my dad too."

"Famous? Like an actress or a singer?" Britney frowned.

"No, she's…ahhh…a politician," Becca replied.

"I can't think of a politician with the last name Calloway," Isabella shook her head.

"She uses her maiden name; Allen," Becca added, hoping they'd connect the dots. She wanted to avoid actually outright saying 'my mom is the President of the United States'.

"The only politician I can recall with that name is the President," Britney laughed, "and since it's not her, I don't think I do recognize her." Becca scowled as she heard the driver muffle a laugh. The driver was in fact Secret Service, but disguised as Becca hadn't wanted to make it a big thing. There was only one in the car with her today because she'd promised to go straight to the school and back, and she had been equipped with panic buttons that would alert the five or six more agents in other cars behind them.

"If you don't recognize her, you'll certainly recognize the house," she continued, as they turned onto the road leading up to the White House.

"Are you taking us on a tour?" Britney asked.

"No, why?" Becca turned to her, "do you want to go on one?"

"Not exactly, but we're heading up to the White House," she gestured to the building looming up before them. Becca kept quiet, not willing to say the damning words.

The car screeched to a halt outside the White House, and a staff member opened the door.

"Um, Becca, what's happening?" Isabella asked tentatively. Becca waited till they were all out of the car before speaking, rather bluntly,

"My mother is Mackenzie Allen, and this is my home."

"Hang on; your mother is the PRESIDENT?" Britney exclaimed, as the car drove off.

"Yes," Becca faced them, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, but I didn't know how to say it. When I went on the school trip, I just wanted to get away from it all, so I didn't make a big deal out of it. Then I forgot you didn't know until a few days ago, and by then you were already coming and my brother said it would be better to tell you in person than on the phone or in an email. Then when you arrived, I didn't really feel comfortable telling you, although I tried several times."

"Let's go over this again," Isabella started.

"Inside, please," Becca urged them, glancing around, "sometimes the paparazzi hangs around here." She led them inside, through the Residence.

"This is, just, wow!" Britney murmured as they made their way through the halls.

"So, will we get to see your parents?" Isabella asked hesitantly. Her real question was if they'd get to see the President, but she didn't dare quite say that. Isabella was actually quiet girl around adults, and easily intimidated. Becca could easily predict she was going to be awkward around Mac.

"Dad should be here, and mum will be coming for dinner tonight, but she's busy at the moment," Becca sighed. While she'd come to terms with her mother being President, that only went so far and she still didn't like it.

"Wow," Britney repeated, as she caught sight of the various Secret Service agents that loitered near the Residence. Rolling her eyes, Becca hurried them on through.

"Britney and Isabella?" Becca's father was standing near the door, talking to a chef before he turned towards them with a smile, "I'm Rod Calloway, Becca's father." He held out his hand to warmly shake the two girls'.

"Come on in," he motioned for them to enter. Giggling, the two girls followed Becca into the private domain of the First Family.

Mac rose from her desk, glancing at her watch.

"Jim," she called as she moved into the outer office, "I'm going to head back to Residence now. You should go home too."

"Yes, ma'am," Jim nodded, "have a good night, Madame President." Mac nodded and then moved quickly through the corridors. Rod would have already returned to the Residence and she had to move quickly or she'd be too late to have a shower before dinner. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to walk into the Residence only a few minutes before dinner started.

She entered the Residence and made her way to the Presidential bedroom. Inside she closed the door and headed to the wardrobe. Picking out a semi-casual outfit, she headed into the shower.

Ten minutes later, she stood in front of the mirror, finishing up her hair. She left her room, heading out to the living room. As she approached she could hear voices, seven voices to be exact. Her entire family, plus Rebecca's friends, were in there, and the television on, although softly. She stepped into the room, and all eyes turned towards her.

"Good evening," she greeted them, moving swiftly to her husband but facing the two girls she didn't recognize, "you are Britney and Isabella?"

"Yes, ma'am," the two girls rose to their feet, and held out their hands formally. From their expressions and stances, they seemed nervous and intimidated by her position, rather surprisingly. She'd expected it from Isabella, who Rod had described as quiet and easily awed, but not from Britney, who he said had been a pretty confident kid, who hadn't blinked twice at suddenly being in the White House.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Mac smiled warmly at them, leaning forward to shake the hand of first one and then the other. Releasing Isabella's hand, she sat down on the couch next to Rod. She leaned across to kiss him in greeting quickly, and then turned back to the rest.

"So, Isabella, what do you plan to do after school?" Katie asked.

"My parents want me to go into Engineering," Isabella replied, "but I want to do fashion."

"What about you, Britney?" Mac turned to the other girl.

"I'm going to do Law," Britney answered.

"Do you know what universities you want to apply to?" Rod inquired.

"Not really," Isabella answered, "I'm still trying to decide what I'm going to do."

"I'm hoping to go into Cambridge or Oxford," Britney admitted.

Over the next ten minutes, the two girls slowly relaxed, forgetting exactly who Mac was and what she represented. Small talk, Mac mused silently, was very good for that.

"Madame President, First Gentleman, dinner is ready," one of the chefs appeared in the doorway. Mac winced inwardly as Isabella stiffened again, once again aware of exactly who she was. There was a mad scramble on behalf of the kids to get to the dining room and sit down. It was actually one of the first times she was back in Residence, before the others were all seated at dinner. Normally they were waiting at the dining table for her.

"Thank you," she rose gracefully, and then pulled her husband up.

Seated at the table, she reached for her husband's and for Amy's hands, before quietly offering Isabella the chance to say grace. Once she had done so, rather embarrassed and quiet, they set about to eating. It took only a few minutes for them to start talking again, and the noise level rose. Rod reached over beneath the table and rested his hand on her knee, glancing over at Horace. She flashed him a quick smile in recognition as they observed their only son talking easily with Britney.

"He's certainly warmed up to her quickly," Rod murmured, "and she's certainly comfortable talking to him."

"It must run in the family," Mac replied softly with a pointed look, "nonetheless, it's a good thing I suppose, because Isabella and Becca look like they're busy plotting something, and with Britney's sort of personality, she'd get bored of that soon."

"It certainly doesn't run in your family, Mac," Rod smiled at her, "your brother certainly didn't warm up to me very quickly." Mac laughed softly,

"You were dating his younger sister, what did you expect? Besides, I was referring to your family; you had no problem talking to me, five minutes after we were introduced."

"Touché," Rod acknowledged.

"They reacted far better to the news than I thought they would," Becca remarked, later that night.

"They were probably more stunned than anything else," Horace taunted, "how many people keep secrets of that caliber from friends?"

"Most people actually," Mac inserted deftly, "and you two, stop it! Either way, both they and we survived the evening, and Becca's friends are still her friends, which is the main point."

**A/N**: That's the end…to be honest I'm not sure where this one was going, I was just kind of writing…and now it's finished, I still don't know where it went, or if it even had a point.


End file.
